Page 23 of A Dark Fall

I literally have no idea how long he’s been standing there, but surely, I would have felt his presence were it an interminable amount of time. He’s smiling a closed-mouthed smile as he stares at every part of my face all at once. He looks casually stunning in a gray shirt buttoned down with a white T-shirt underneath, dark sunglasses tucked into the low V-neck. So, he does daywear equally as well as tailored formal wear. Of course he does.

The way he stares at my mouth so intently makes me think I have cream cheese on my face. I touch my fingers to my lips to check, and he smiles deeper.

“Mind if I join you?” he says, taking a seat before I can answer.

I stare at him dumbly before picking up my napkin to dab my lips. I really can’t be sure my fingers got it all, and he’s still staring hard at my mouth.

“What on earth are you doing here?” I ask, sounding ruder than intended.

He lets out a sigh. “Would you believe me if I told you I was in the neighborhood?”

I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t.” Nothing with him is by chance. Such as me meeting him in the manager’s office of a nightclub I didn’t know he owned. Such as the way his hair looks accidentally messy when it’s not. It’s deliberate, to make women like me want to grab it and run their fingers through it. It’s no accident he’s here.

At that moment, a barista comes over with a brown take-out cup and places it in front of Jake. It has his name written on it in big, girlish black letters. He thanks her without taking his eyes off me.

“Did you get the flowers?” he asks when we’re alone.

“I got them.”

There’s a challenge in his eyes as he nods. “So then, you don’t like roses. That why you never called?”

“What? No. I mean, yes, I like roses.” I look away from him. I sound like a babbling idiot again. Great. Christ, what is it about his eyes that makes me feel so exposed and uncertain? “I was going to text you and thank you ... Today has just been really busy.” I drag a hand through my hair.

He raises an eyebrow skeptically before nodding again. I don’t know if it’s the setting, the fact it’s daytime and perhaps he becomes a completely different person in the dark, but he doesn’t seem as cocky as he usually does. He seems a bit tense and out of sorts, his sexual arrogance dimmed somewhat, and I’m glad for it.

I lift my cup to take a sip of coffee, which is cold now, but I keep drinking anyway because I want to keep my dry mouth and nervous hands busy. As I put my cup back down into the saucer I miss the landing pad, and the cup tips over, spilling my cold Americano across the table toward him. He slides back slightly to avoid getting wet, and I curse, grabbing my napkin to try to mop up the mess.

I glance at him as I wipe, and he hands me another napkin with an amused look on his face.

“Do I make you nervous, Alex?” He grins, confident again.

“What? No, of course not,” I lie. I do my best to clean the mess before sitting back down, Jake’s turquoise eyes watching my every move.

Just then, the same barista comes over, having spotted my accident, and leans to wipe down the table with a damp cloth, picking up the sodden napkins. As she leaves, she smiles sympathetically at me as though she gets it. As though she feels sorry for me for making an idiot of myself in front of the sexy, edgy model guy.

When she’s gone, I turn my eyes back to find him still staring at me. Great, he looks cocky and relaxed again. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

“All right, Doctor, I’m gonna try something here, so bear with me, yeah?” He runs a hand over his mouth and licks his full, luscious lips. “I think you’re amazingly beautiful, classy, smart, and completely out of my league. You’re a woman I do not stand a fucking chance with. But I think you’ve been fighting with yourself since you met me. Fighting against all the reasons you should stay away from me, all the good-girl reasons you’ve probably lived your entire life with—which, to be fair, are extremely fucking valid here.” He looks at me as if he wants me to confirm or deny this, which, of course, I don’t. He leans forward, and when he speaks, his voice is quieter. “But I think you want me anyway. I’m pretty fucking certain you do. I’m certain you want me almost as much as I want you.”

It’s stated so confidently, so completely without doubt, it takes my breath away. I wonder what my giveaway is. Can he hear my breathing from over there? See my heart beating far too fast? Or maybe my face is red. It feels red. I swallow. Then I realize swallowing is probably a giveaway too.

Wait a minute—he thinks I’m amazingly beautiful and out of his league?

“How many times have you thought about me since Friday night?” he goes on. “Since I kissed you. And then since you kissed me?” A smirk lifts his mouth. He raises an eyebrow, expectant, as though he honestly believes I’ll answer him.

If truth be told—which it won’t be—I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve thought about him since Friday night. I also thought about him a few times before Friday night, but he doesn’t need to know that either.

Instead, I bluff it. I smile, shaking my head at his arrogance, before looking down to play with my cup. I should tell him I don’t want him and that I haven’t thought about him at all since Friday. I don’t though. What I do is replay the kiss in his office, and then in the hallway, over and over in my head.

“That many, huh?” he says, sounding pleased. When I look back up at him, he’s grinning at me. It’s that small half-smile that gives him a mixture of arrogance and boyish charm.

Damn him.

“It’s okay, Doctor. I’ve thought about you a lot too. About how good your tongue felt in my mouth and how hard you made me.”

I gasp out loud, and his eyes blaze, unashamed.

When I’m certain my voice won’t betray me, I fix him with a pointed stare. “What is it you want from me, Jake?” I whisper in exasperation. “What is it you think white roses will achieve, exactly? Do you think that’s all it takes? That a bouquet of flowers is all it takes for me to spread my legs for you? I’m sorry, but I’m not that girl.”